g the charged heaviness of arcane force accumulating in the air。 The spellsinger fell backward； and it was two to one。
Houndaer told himself it didn't matter。 Not when he was wielding Ryld's own greatsword； a weapon that could supposedly shear through anything； and Tsabrak's blade was dripping poison。 They only needed to land one light little cut to incapacitate their foe。
Ryld gave ground before them。 Houndaer assumed he wanted to put his back against the wall； so neither of his opponents could get behind him； but with an agility astonishing in so massive a fighter； Ryld changed dinotrection。 In the blink of an eye； he was driving forward instead of back； plunging at the half…spider on his left。
Startled； Houndaer faltered； then scrambled toward Ryld and the drider。 It would take him a few heartbeats to close the distance。
In that time； Ryld charged in on Tsabrak's right； the side opposite the creature's sword arm。 A drider's spidery lower half was sufficiently massive that； like a mounted warrior； he had difficulty striking or parrying across his torso。
Tsabrak slashed at the weapons master's head。 The stroke was poorly aimed； and Ryld didn't bother to duck or parry； simply concentrated on his own attack。
Tsabrak made a desperate effort to heave himself aside。 Still； Ryld's broadsword crunched through the top of one of the drider's chitinous legs。 Tsabrak cried out and lurched off…balance。
Stepping； Ryld whirled his weapon around for what would surely be the coup de grace。 Houndaer shouted a war cry； ran a final stride； and swung the greatsword。 He wasn't in a proper stance； and the stroke was a clumsy one； but it sufficed to drive the weapons master back。 Ryld knew better than anyone how deadly was that enormous blade。
As soon as the stroke whizzed past； the master advanced with a thrust to the chest。 Houndaer wrenched the greatsword around for a parry。 It should have been impossible to bring such a huge weapon about so quickly； but it seemed to grow as light as a roll of parchment in his hands。 Ryld's broadsword caught on one of the hooks just above the leather…girt ricasso。
Ryld retreated； snatching his weapon free。 Houndaer shifted the greatnotsword into a middle guard； and Tsabrak hobbled up beside him。 The drider's face twisted in pain； and pungent fluid spattered rhythmically from his wound。
Ryld continued to back away。 The rogues spread out again； though not so widely as before。 Tsabrak began to make a soft whining sound in the back of his throat。
Then； seemingly without any windup； just a sudden extension of his arm； Ryld threw his sword。 Though the weapon wasn't intended for such an action； it streaked through the air as straight and sure as an arrow。 The point plunged into Tsabrak's chest。
The drider's eyes widened。 He coughed blood； then flopped forward at the waist； dropping his sword。 His spider half； slower to die than the upper portion； continued to limp forward。
It was all right； though； because Ryld had no melee weapon save for a dagger； which would surely be of little use against a blade as long as the greatsword。 Houndaer rushed in to deliver the finishing stroke。
〃Tuin'Tarir he screamed。
His face still as blank as a zombie's； the weapons master dodged to the side。
Houndaer turned； following the target； and saw that Ryld had ducked behind one of a row of wooden mannequins。 Up close； the crudely carved dummies were oddly disquieting figures； smirking identical smiles despite their countless stigmata of dents and gashes。
Ryld stood poised； waiting； and Houndaer discerned the spy's intent。 When his adversary lunged around one side of the dummy； the master would circle in the opposite direction； thus maintaining a barrier between them。
Houndaer saw no reason to play that game； not if his new sword was as keen as it was supposed to be。 He brought the blade around in a low arc。 It tore away the mannequin with scarcely a jolt； depriving Ryld of his pitinotful protection。
Unfortunately； the weapons master sprang forward at the very same innotstant； before Houndaer could pull the greatsword back for another cut。 Ryld slashed at the noble's throat。
Houndaer frantically wrenched himself back； interposing his weapon between himself and the spy； before recognizing that the cut had been more of a feint than anything else。 Ryld had tricked him into assuming a pletely defensive attitude； then seized the opportunity to dash past him。 Houndaer cut at the master's back but only managed to tear his bilnotlowing cloak。
The Tuin'Tarl gave chase； and Tsabrak； dying or dead but still mindnotlessly ambulatory； staggered into his path。 Houndaer shouted in